“We have to!”
Another roar, closing in on them with frightening speed. It echoed around them like the thunder.
“I can’t,” Mathis pleaded, his voice pitiful and weak compared to the cacophony.
“Then run.”
Jerek hurried to his tent, his feet sinking in the mud. He found Dan crying beside his pack filled with gold. Jerek grabbed a few chunks of ore, stuffed them into his pocket, and then reached out blindly.
“Grab my hand!” he shouted.
“I’m scared, make it stop!” Dan shouted back.
“You can cry later, now grab my damn hand or I swear I’ll leave you here!”
Jerek felt something big and strong wrap around his fingers. He gripped it back, and leading Dan along like a child he plunged into the forest.
“Mathis?” he screamed as he ran. “Mathis, where are you?”
He heard no sign of the father. The thunder boomed, and following it was the creature’s roar, bestial and angry. It was close, too. So close. They ran through the darkness, stumbling over roots and plowing through bushes. Jerek felt thorns scratch his skin and wet leaves lash his face. He was bleeding, though how badly he didn’t want to know. Dan cried, doing his best to keep up but always falling behind, always needing another tug to keep him going.
“I can’t,” he said. “Jer, please, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”
“You can!” Jerek screamed. “Goddamn it, move!”
He wasn’t sure, the thunder was too loud, but he thought he heard a scream. The wind picked up, and the rain pelted them from all sides. Everywhere was darkness. Jerek had to run with his hand before his face, and several times he pushed off against a tree he might have struck headfirst. A sudden tug on his arm alerted him to Dan’s fall. His grip broke. He turned and reached out, crying out his friend’s name.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“My leg,” Dan said, his voice a barely understandable sob. “I hurt my leg. It hurts, Jer, why can’t we stop. It hurts, it hurts so bad…”
Jerek found his arm and tried to pull him up. Dan had curled into a ball, though, and he was far too heavy and strong. He pulled anyway, pleading with him to move.
“I can’t,” Dan kept saying. “I can’t, don’t make me, I can’t. It hurts, it hurts!”
Another roar. He couldn’t even tell the direction. So close, he couldn’t think, couldn’t see. Everything was darkness and teeth and hunting claws and hungry eyes.
Jerek fell to one knee and put his hands on Dan’s head.
“Dan,” he said, hoping he’d be heard above the noise. “Please. I’m sorry.”
He turned and ran.
“Don’t leave!” Dan screamed. “Jer, don’t leave! Don’t leave me!”
The pleading chased after him as he stumbled forward, running at a reckless pace with both his arms out. He struck one tree, bounced to the side, and then kept going.
“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave! Don’t…”
The sudden silence was far worse than any of Dan’s screams. Sobbing, Jerek ran on.
He didn’t know how long he ran. His lungs burned, and he felt like he’d soon vomit. The center of his chest ached, and his whole body itched from the many cuts. His run became a stumbling jog, then a walk. It took him longer and longer to push off from every tree he bumped into. The chill of the rain seeped deeper into his skin. And then it seemed he stepped on air, and he was falling, falling. The darkness lit up into bright white as pain flared throughout his head. His last moment was how thankful he was he’d no longer have to listen to that horrible damned roar.
*
He awoke with a fever.
“Dan?” he asked as he rolled onto his back. His head throbbed, and his limbs moved as if his veins were full of tree sap. His skin itched. A thick knot swelled from his forehead. When he opened his eyes, he immediately shut them. The light of morning burned.
Morning…
He lurched upward, then regretted the motion. He felt his stomach heave, and without the strength to move he vomited upon his chest and neck. The smell filled his nose, a smell of blood and bile. Again he felt sick, this time turning to the side so he didn’t foul himself further. As he coughed and gagged, pieces of the prior night came back to him. He remembered his talk with Evermoon, of the sudden downpour, his run in the dark, of leaving Dan...
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn’t stay. You couldn’t understand, you wouldn’t, but I had to. I had to.”
He cried anyway. His chest heaved with his sobs.
“Fuck you, elf!” he screamed to the quiet forest. “Fuck you!”
They were all dead. They had to be. Unconscious and smothered with mud, he must have somehow gone unseen. He doubted such luck a second time, not without others to distract and lure the guardian away. Come nightfall, he had to be gone, he had to be out of the damn forest and on his way back to Trewick.
Jerek cleaned himself off best he could, grabbing a pile of leaves and smearing them across his lap. His head swam, and he felt horribly thirsty. He had no water, no supplies at all, just his sword at his side, a dagger tucked into his belt, and his pockets full of gold. Using a tree for support, he forced himself to a stand. The world swirled unevenly, and with eyes closed he waited for the vertigo to pass.
Finding out which direction to go was another problem. The best he could figure was to put Elfspire behind him, but to do that he had to see it. From where he stood, he saw only the thick canopy of leaves. Weak as he was, he couldn’t imagine trying to climb up to look.
The sun, he realized. He could figure out directions by the sun. It seemed the clouds had come at the elf’s bidding at night, but during the day he finally had a break. The light streamed in visible waves through the leaves, leaving little doubt as to which direction it was rising from. It took him a moment to orientate himself, but finally he turned to where he thought was south and began walking. Long as he kept checking every hour or so, and did his best to keep moving, he’d make enough progress.
He hoped.
For the first hour, he more stumbled than walked. His arms felt wooden, and his stomach heaved at odd intervals. His thoughts rumbled sluggishly through his head, snippets of memories and concerns that seemed to have no real bearing or reason. He remembered how Dan hated eating rabbits because he thought they were cuddly. He thought of Mira’s strange eyes, and how naked he’d felt before them. As his stomach grew in anger, he thought of some of the meager meals he’d eaten in Trewick. If given the chance, he’d strangle a beggar for a bowl of soup.
Not that he’d be strangling anyone in his current shape.
Near the end of the third hour he found a stream, a small one he never remembered crossing on their way toward the mountain. Panic struck him, and for a while he spun round and round, unable to gauge direction by the sun or see the looming mountain in the distance.
Calm down, he told himself over and over, until finally he collapsed to his knees beside the stream. Even as he shivered he splashed the cool water across his face and shoulders, then drank his fill. Exhausted, lost in despair, he lay atop the soft grass and closed his eyes.
When he awoke, he was covered in sweat. He rubbed his eyes, trying to remember where he was, then panicked again. He’d slept! He couldn’t afford to sleep, not with the sun continuing its march toward the horizon. Jerek lurched to his feet, steadied himself, and then looked around. As his heart thudded, he slowed his breathing and tried to think. The nap seemed to have done him good; he felt more energetic than he had all morning, and it seemed his fever had broken.
“I’ll be all right,” he said as he took slow, steady breaths. “Just a nap. Plenty of time to get out of here.”
A slight tingle of discomfort harassed him in the back of his mind. Jerek glanced around, trying to decide the reason. The stream still trickled along, cold and comforting with its babbling sound. The trees swayed in a soft breeze, their branches thick and intertwined.
Intertwined
…
Jerek looked for the sun but saw only a thick canopy of leaves. He was deep within shadow, the trees drawn tightly together with but a small gap by the stream. He took a step, then stopped and drew his sword as he heard pained, rumbling laughter. Waiting for him on the far side of the enclosure was the elf.
“You seem to care little for your survival,” Evermoon said, his smile twisting in the darkening shade. “This forest will be your death, yet you slumber by the water like a babe?”
Tree trunks swelled, the leaves thickened on their branches, and brush sprouted upward, closing in the gaps with twisting vines. Jerek stood shocked by the sight, as if the very forest were awakening, trapping him in a prison of bark and leaf. The area by the elf was where the shade was at its darkest, deep as the bowels of a cave. And from within that shade Jerek saw the creature.
It was slender, like a starved man dying in a gibbet. The shadows swirled about it, as if it were made of an evil smoke pooled together into tangible form. So dark it was, darker than the shade, as if not the slightest bit of light dared reveal itself against its form. Thin, slanted eyes glared out, a pale white, a dead white. Invisible lips pulled back to reveal enormous teeth, viciously sharp at their tips. When it lifted its hands, long claws the size of daggers stretched out, made of that same pale white, not a color but the total void of all light, shape, and substance. Jerek’s heart pounded in his chest as the creature softly growled.
“What is that thing?” he asked, taking a step back. His sword shook in his hand.
“You took gold from the mountain,” said Evermoon. “You’ve angered its guardian.”
The guardian rumbled in agreement. To Jerek, it sounded like an animal about to pounce on its prey.
“Take it,” he said, his free hand pulling the gold from his pockets and hurling it at the elf. “I don’t want it. Take the gold and leave me alone!”
“You left your friend to die,” Evermoon said, watching the chunks of ore roll across the grass. “You’re a greedy man and a coward. You deserve nothing.”
Jerek turned and ran. The only gap he saw was by the stream, but even it was thick with brush and low-hanging branches. The guardian snarled. He didn’t know if the darkness was deep enough for the creature to attack, but he prayed for time. When he reached the water’s edge he dove in, and on his hands and knees he crawled toward the gap in the enclosure. The chill water splashed across his face, the mud slippery beneath his fingers.
The branches above completed their growth, encapsulating them in their private night. With a roar the guardian leapt, snarling like a dog unleashed. Jerek drew his sword and slashed at the vines blocking his way, their sides bristling with thorns. He hacked once, twice, and then with a desperate cry lunged forward as he felt something sharp stab at his back. Half his body emerged into brilliant daylight. The light poured in through the gap, and as his back bled he heard the creature shriek in wounded fury.
Sword still in hand, he crawled the rest of the way out, then spun and stared at the gap. From within he saw dead-white eyes leering out. Jerek pointed his sword at it and laughed, his bewildered mind torn between amusement and anger.
“Come get me,” he shouted. “You got Mathis, Russ, even Dan, but you can’t get me, can you, demon?”
He staggered to his feet, splashing water everywhere. Mud dripped from his pants and shirt.
“I’m right here!” he screamed. “Come on! Stick your scrawny little neck out here so I can cut your damn head off!”
Jerek laughed even as tears ran down his face. He waved his sword about, faked a charge, and then climbed out of the water. Sheathing his sword, he looked to the sky. The trees had bent and curled inward to form the trap, so now outside of it he had a clear view of Elfspire. Putting his back to it, he started jogging while his adrenaline was still high. The guardian’s roars chased after him, gradually fading with time.
It didn’t take long for his lungs to ache and his head to swim. The past night was a barely remembered nightmare. He coughed and heaved as he ran, determined to continue until his body gave out. He had to travel as far as he could before nightfall. Once out of the forest, he might have a chance to survive.
The hours passed in a dull haze of leaves and tree trunks. He walked much of it, unable to keep such a drastic pace. He focused on his breathing, in and out. When his feet started bleeding, he wrapped them with torn pieces of his shirt. His back ached, and dimly he wondered if the shallow cuts might be infected. Of course, none of that would matter if the guardian thrust its long claws through his forehead.
Lower and lower fell the sun, until in long shadows he stumbled on throbbing, blistered feet. The forest had taken on a deep orange hue, the last remnant of light before darkness. Already he saw thick storm clouds gathering above Elfspire, ready to blot out the stars so the creature could hunt freely.
“How far,” he asked as he slumped to his rear, his back against a tree. He winced as he bent his knees and tried to stretch his legs. “How far will you chase me?”
He put his head against the bark and closed his eyes. Perhaps it would be better this way. Instead of fleeing in terror, he could die in his sleep, free of the pain, blood, and exhaustion. Perhaps it would be…
His eyes snapped open as a great roar thundered through the forest, the primal cry of the guardian as it gave chase from whatever cave or hole it hid within. Jerek glanced up to see thick clouds smothering any remnants of daylight. Again the roar came, and he knew he could not wait. He’d come too far. If he wanted to die, he should have stayed at Dan’s side and held him as the rain poured down.
Jerek was aware of very little of the chase. The clouds rumbled, but they dropped no rain. Instead the air grew strangely thick, and the feel of it burned his lungs. He staggered over roots and weaved through the trees. He needed no sight to guess his direction. Long as the guardian roared at his back, he knew which way to run.
“Just a little longer,” Jerek whispered as the trees spread wider and wider. He was nearing the end; he had to be. His back was aflame, his feet one giant blister of pain. But he was almost there. Almost. Branches slapped at his face, but he pushed them away. So far the creature had stopped roaring. Maybe he had gone too far.
And then he saw the forest’s edge. His heart leapt in his throat, and without realizing it, he punched a fist into the air and cried for joy.
Until the guardian stepped out before him, its toothy grin wide, its slanted eyes twinkling with amusement.
Thought you escaped me, didn’t you? those eyes said. Thought you were free? You’re mine, Jerek. All mine.
“It’s not right,” Jerek said as he collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving as he fought for every breath. “I made it. I’m here.”
The guardian softly growled, its inflection rapidly bouncing up and down. Jerek could hardly believe it. It was laughing. The damn shadow demon was laughing at him.
Whatever fight was left in him flared with new strength. He wouldn’t die, not on his knees while the wretched thing mocked his struggle. Out came his sword as he stood, staring eye to eye with the creature.
“Nice claws,” he said. “Let’s see how well you use them.”
The guardian lunged, its dead-white claws leading. Jerek stepped to the side, shocked by the thing’s speed. His sword flailed, and he was just as shocked that he managed to block in time. The claws rattled against the steel, then veered to the side to cut air. Jerek stepped back as the guardian whirled, slashing outward as if it were in the middle of a violent dance.
He parried the first few, then jerked his head back as the sharp tips sliced short of his throat. He felt the wind of their passing, and a shiver ran up his spine as he realized how close to death he’d come. The guardian stopped its spin, roared, and then plunged both sets of claws straight for his chest. Jerek sidestepped, parrying the thrusts to the side. The scraping sound they made against his sword was horrifying. The claws were sharp as steel, if not sharper.
The guardian’s tee
th snapped, and it lunged again, its jaw open wide, its aim for his throat. Jerek tried to slash its head, but claws batted his sword away as if it were a toy. Teeth nipped at his neck, and he felt his bladder let go. But no blood. No wound. Jerek staggered back, waving his sword wildly before him in a pathetic defense. The guardian hunched down, circling him like a stalking animal.
Jerek clutched his sword in both hands, his mind reeling. The thing was playing with him, like a cat with a mouse. Here he was, so close to safety, but he was the last. The guardian had all the time in the world to bleed him dry.
A plan formed in his head, desperate perhaps, but better than nothing. Already he knew his skills were pitiful compared to its speed and strength. It was taunting him, but if he could use that…
“Come on,” he yelled, suddenly going on the offense. He slashed and cut with wild abandon, every second knowing the creature could gut him if it wanted. His heart hammered in his chest, yet those dead-white claws never swiped at his exposed arms or face. Instead the guardian twisted, dodging blows and striking the sword with mocking taps. Jerek let his attacks slow, exaggerating his significant exhaustion. The creature grew angrier, its blocks more vicious. It was getting bored. Tired and lacking in skill, Jerek knew he provided very little entertainment.
He thrust his sword for the guardian’s chest, using every bit of his strength. The creature grabbed the blade in its claws and twisted, pulling it free of his grip. The sword fell with a dull thud to the grass. Jerek took a step back, very little falsehood in his act of horror. The guardian approached, its claws glinting, its grin wide, its eyes hungry. Its claws snaked around his throat, slamming him against the trunk of a tree. Blood ran across them, dripping down their sides from superficial wounds on his neck. One last game, Jerek realized. One last taunt.
The creature put its face an inch from his. Its breath was cold and earthern, like a draft of air from the bottom of a well. From its throat came a soft growl, almost a purr. Jerek stared into its eyes, hollow spaces in a nightmarish existence, colorless voids within the darkness. His whole body trembled. His lips quivered. He felt his heart might explode.
Guardian of the Mountain Page 4
